Dead Fatherhood
by Ruinus
Summary: For James dying for Harry was easy. The hard part was witnessing everything that happened afterwards. Story from James' POV. H/Hr pairing.
1. Last Night

**AN: **I had this idea just today as I washed dishes and decided I had to try to flesh it out and put it on paper, inspired by the thought that everyone seems to forget about James, who also died for Harry. Anyway, I'm pretty sure some canon events will be changed in this story. This'll be a short story, each chapter (maybe only 3 in total) being about this length.

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**Last Night**

"James, it's time to put Harry to bed."

"In a minute." James called over his shoulder before turning back to his son, who was squealing and laughing as if there was no tomorrow as he lifted him up in the air, his tiny arms flailing about. "You like flying Harry?" James asked with a titanic smile as he sat up from his couch and lifted Harry over his head, his little baby's squeals of delight increasing as he did so. "Wooooooosh!" He gently moved Harry in a wide sweeping turn, "Woooooosh!" he led Harry into a slow ascent, "Woooooooosh!" he brought down baby Harry into a soft landing on the couch before an idea sprung into his mind. "Accio broom!" he called out, one of Lilly's normal Muggle non-flying brooms suddenly coming into his grasp. He muttered a spell to magically shrink down the broom and handed it to Harry, who immediately began swinging it around as hard as he could, one of his wings tapping James on the nose before he went off on another flight. Harry quickly began imitating his father and began to move the broom along with his own movements.

"You love flying don't you?" James said as he continued to carry Harry about the room, "Maybe you'll be a great Quidditch player someday, maybe you'll be a top Chaser like your good ol' dad?"

Harry squealed in response.

James laughed and blew a raspberry in Harry's stomach, the tiny baby's arms swinging about as he laughed. "You love playing with your dad?" James asked.

Harry squealed again before attempting to chew on the miniaturized broom.

"I'll take that as a yes," James said.

"You've got him started already," a musical voice said from behind him, James turning to gaze at his beautiful redheaded wife, "Soon, he'll be doing nothing but breathing, eating and talking Quidditch."

"Of course he will," James said as he handed Harry over to Lily before giving his wife a quick peck on the lips, "Good night little guy." James said as he played with Harry's hand before noticing a sad look cross Lily's face. "What's wrong?"

She turned to face him, her green eyes full of worry. "He'll get that chance to play Quidditch won't he?"

James understood what she meant, he nodded slowly. "Yes, he'll get that chance. To play Quidditch and more." Lily nodded at his words and slipped her slender hand into his before giving him a significant look. They both knew Voldemort was after them, they both knew that Pettigrew had gone missing-no one else had noticed, but Pettigrew was supposed to be checking in regularly-and both knew that today held magical significance in several of the old religions. If Voldemort were to ever make his move it'd be tonight. They knew all about this.

They also knew what they had to do to protect Harry.

They'd found the ritual in one of James' libraries back at the ancestral family manor, in an old book that had been passed down through the Potter family line about defensive spells, charms, runes and rituals. It had been created by some ancestor generations ago when he was going through a similar situation, though he never finished the entire formula for the ritual since he was able to avert the entire situation and save his fiancé, who showed up as his wife on the family tree. They'd read and reread, expanded on the original incomplete formula and refined it, planned and practiced and psyched themselves up for what had to be done to make sure that their pride and joy, their little guy, their baby and most important person, would live and stay safe in a world free from the foul bigotry of Voldemort and his followers. One of them would have to go first, something told him that he'd be the first, to start the ritual, to begin the protection. Then one of them would go next to set up the final part of the ritual, Lily would do this, she'd get to hold their baby for the last and final time. Then Voldemort would have to play his part-as they both knew he would-and ensure that Harry would be safe. They both knew that to keep Harry alive they'd both have to die. Fatherhood was hard sometimes.

The silence between him and Lily was broken when Harry started fussing.

"Hey, there's no reason to put him to bed so early is there?" James asked, his voice coming out unevenly.

"You are right. You hear that Harry?" Lily said as she tried to fight back tears, bouncing Harry in an effort to keep him from crying. "Let's all go into the living room and play for a bit. Or do you want to go to sleep?"

Harry squealed and laughed, his arms flailing out in James' direction, his little chubby baby hands opening and closing repeatedly.

"Yes!" James cheered as he plucked Harry from his mother's embrace and began to lift him up as high as he could, Harry enjoying his game of flight. "Wooooosh!" He flew Harry about the living room as Lily sat down beside him and laughed before speaking up.

"You know, you are a wizard. You could make him fly for real."

"That's dangerous," James said, "And I don-"

"Please," Lily cut him off, "I know you and Sirius have cast Levitation charms on him before and I know he enjoys it." She sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit. "Let him fly, I'll cast Cushioning charms on him too."

James just grinned before pulling his wand out, "Wingardium Leviosa," he chanted as he pointed his wand at Harry, the little baby happily laughing as he started floating about the room. "Wooooosh," he levitated Harry across the room, "Zooooom" he turned Harry around before he bumped into a nearby wall, "Vrooooom," he said as he made him dive by his mother.

"Not so fast," Lily chided, though she was obviously enjoying watching her son fly about the room in nothing but his nappies. "Just because a bump won't hurt him because of the charms doesn't mean he can't get dizzy. And vroom is the sound cars make, not airplanes."

"Oh," James responded, "Sorry, I still get them mixed up sometimes." He put an arm around Lily and drew her in closely, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. He suddenly regretted the fact that they'd never taken a trip on a Muggle airplane, they sounded wonderful from what Lily had said. His thoughts were broken when he suddenly saw one of Harry's stuffed animals fly alongside him. He turned to look at his wife who was badly suppressing a grin.

"What?" She asked innocently, "I thought Harry could use some company up there and what better company than that silly owl toy Hagrid gave him a few months ago?" She waved her wand around and controlled the animated owl's actions, flying it around Harry and occasionally landing it on his head before Harry grabbed it by a wing and simply began flapping his arms wildly about. "He loves that owl." Lily whispered. "Do you think he'll have lots of friends?"

"I'm sure he will," James replied easily. "I think he'll be a charmer and a ladies man, just like me."

Lily scoffed and shook her head. "I hope he doesn't get any of your big ego. Don't forget that you aren't all you make yourself to be Mr. Potter, strutting about Hogwarts as if you were God's gift to women."

"Well, you certainly seem to think I am." James teased right back, giving his wife what he thought was a heart melting grin.

Lily simply huffed in response, "Please, your kissing is satisfactory at best." She then turned and gave him a saucy smile before giving him a quick kiss. "Though I can't disagree with you, I hope he meets the right girl someday, a smart level-headed girl." She sighed and looked up at Harry, who was laughing so much it seemed almost as if his flight was powered by laughter, a trail of spit hanging out of his mouth and trailing behind him in the air. "But I also hope he studies hard. It'd be nice to if he could get a Muggle education too. He could become a Healer or a doctor, a lawyer or a Rune Master…"

"Or a Quidditch pro or an Auror like me." James responded. "I bet he'll get into all sorts of trouble like I used to."

"You think so?" Lily asked, her head resting on his shoulder. "I hope not. I hope he doesn't cause Professor McGonagall any trouble."

"Professor McGonagall? You think he'll be in Gryffindor?"

"Of course, though I wouldn't mind if he were in Ravenclaw."

"Nah," James shrugged, "Gryffindor for sure. But I think you are worrying too much love, I'm sure he'll be fine in whatever he does, I'm positive he'll be fine."

He lowered his wand and brought Harry back into Lily's embrace, his redheaded wife immediately latching onto their young baby as fast as she could. There was a long, long silence as Lily buried her face against Harry's tiny body, James meeting Harry's eyes over his mother's shoulder as she silently cried before joining the family hug. He hugged the two of them as tightly as he could as he realized that it was getting late and this was likely to be their last few moments together.

"We love you Harry," Lily's voice was surprisingly strong, "We love you so much." She placed a long kiss on his little forehead which caused him to laugh and clutch at his mother's long red hair. "We'll always be with you."

"It's true," James said as he stroked Lily's hair, Harry trying to eat the locks of hair he had clutched in his hand. "We love you. Always will." He wrapped his arms around Lily and motioned her to stand up, signaling that it was time to go. "Come on love, let's put him to sleep."

"I don't want to." Lily whispered, "I don't want to… It'd probably be better if he was asleep right?"

James nodded. "It would…. I don't want him to see. Maybe put a Deep Sleep Charm on him?" He gave them one last squeeze before walking the two of them to the stairs, "Go on, I'll be up in-"

Somewhere they heard a sound of thunder. The wards that defended their home were being attacked. James turned to look at Lily, a look on her face that made his heart drop. "Lily, it's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off..." he paused, knowing that what he had to do and what she had to do. "I love you Lily." He then looked at his little bundle of joy, black hair and green eyes and so young and innocent. "I love you Harry."

"I love you James." Lily proclaimed as she took a step forward before they heard the sound of a thousand mirrors suddenly being smashed open, the sound that told them the wards around their house had fallen. "I'll see you later." She then turned around and ran up the stairs, disappearing from view as James turned around and stared at the front door. He took a deep breath as he clenched his hands into fists and realized he had left his wand in the living room. He didn't have the chance to turn and head into the living room where he'd left his wand as the front door was suddenly blown in half, splinters flying everywhere, and Voldemort stepped through, his wand leading the way as it glowed a deadly green.

"Voldemort," James replied with a calm tone as he brushed splinters off of himself. "Come to get your face kicked in?" He saw Voldemort's eyes travel down to his hands, wandless, and then back to meet his gaze. Voldemort simply smiled as he raised his wand and pointed it at James, "Avada Kedavra!" James ducked and lunged forward, all the skin on his back going numb as the curse sailed over him and tore a large hole in a nearby wall. James didn't miss a beat and used the sudden opportunity to close in on Voldemort and threw a punch straight into the madman's face, blood spewing out of a burst lip. He then sidestepped a sweeping wand movement that sent a spell into his shoulder, a large gash appearing where it hit, and threw a punch straight into Voldemort's gut. He was about to follow up with another punch when all the wind was knocked out of him as he was slammed against a nearby wall, held up by magical forces from Voldemort's wand.

"You've spent too much time with the mudblood," Voldemort began as blood trickled down his chin. "You fight like one, like a vermin with tooth and nail. You disgust me Potter," he spat, "A Pureblood degrading himself with a mudblood, breeding tra-"

James didn't let Voldemort finish his sentence, he saw Voldemort move too closely to him and realized that his face was just within kicking distance. Through his boot he felt teeth being kicked in, the blow causing Voldemort to stumble backwards and release him from his magical grip, James falling to the floor with a heavy thud. He was about to stand when Voldemort, still lying on the floor, fired off a Bludgeoning Curse that hit him square in the chest, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. He could do nothing but gasp for breath and watch as Voldemort made his way over to him, his mouth a bloody mess.

"Fine," he said, bloody spittle flying out of his mouth and landing on James' face. "You would have been great by my side, instead you betrayed your kind." He raised his wand, the Killing Curse forming at the end of its tip.

"I told you once," James began once he was able to catch his breath, his gaze locked on Voldemort with the utmost defiance written across his features. "That I'd rather die than be one of your bootlickers," he spit on Voldemort's shoes for effect. "If you came to hear me beg, you will be disappointed."

James stared up at Voldemort, unflinchingly and gave him his best glare. He wouldn't be broken, couldn't be broken. There was nothing Voldemort had over him. Lily, he knew, would be seeing him soon. Harry, he knew and hoped, would be safe. He smiled, Voldemort temporarily pausing at the sight, and knew that Harry would be fine.

And then he died in a flash of green.

But something had gone wrong.

He hadn't moved on as he thought he would have. It was common enough in the wizarding world, and in the Muggle world too, for ghosts to form after a person's soul stuck around because of some unresolved business, stubbornness or some traumatic event that forced them to stay a ghost until they were able to accept their death and let go. But he wasn't a ghost, no one could see or hear him, he didn't even exhibit the typical ghost effects of sending shivers down a person's back if he touched or flew threw them, neither did he drop the ambient temperatures of any rooms he was in. After a few days of wondering and pondering, he concluded that he was in Limbo. It wasn't too bad actually, of course he would have loved to have been with Lily in whatever land the dead went off to, but getting the chance to see Harry grow up would be wonderful. So he floated around and looked over Harry as he was carted off by Hagrid and landed on the Dursley's doorstep.

"That makes sense," he thought, "To put him with his closest relatives while this all dies down."

The Dursleys. It was infuriating g that neither of them seemed too distraught over the news of their deaths, James knew they both hated magic and he had never really gotten along with Vernon after that incident at one of Lily's family gatherings, Petunia always seemed to look down on him. That was fine, he didn't really care for them and only put up with them for Lily's sake. But not one of them shed any tears for Lily. Not even Petunia, her own sister. And it seemed that some of that frostiness had transferred over to Harry, they didn't pay any more attention to him than was absolutely required. Feeding and changing his diapers. They didn't talk to him, they didn't hug or carry him, they let him cry himself tired whenever he was fussy. James could do nothing but grit his teeth and bear it, it would only be a few days before Albus arrived and brought Sirius and Remus with him and Harry would be out of here. Only a few days. In the meantime he desperately tried to talk to Harry, to try to tell him that he was still there with him and that he wasn't alone and smiled on the few times when it seemed as if he had heard him.

Nothing else made him smile though, because as time started wearing on he didn't have much to smile about besides Harry. Not Vernon and Petunia's cold attitude towards Harry, not the fact that Albus didn't return the next week and the next, not the fact that neither Sirius nor Remus showed up to take Harry as he and Lily had intended, not the fact that no Ministry employees appeared to check up on him and get that nasty looking scar checked out-he felt heartbroken to see his little baby with such a nasty scar on his tiny forehead-and take him to Mungo's to check him out for any residual injuries or spell damage. The first week he could understand, maybe the wizarding world was still in turmoil, he couldn't tell since he didn't dare leave Harry's side, and the government didn't want to send any delegation here for fear of giving away Harry's hiding spot. That made some sense. The first month… well the war was costly, and really what danger was Harry in? Sure the Dursleys weren't exactly showering Harry with love and joy but, well they were taking care of him. Surely Albus, Sirius and Remus were just finishing up the last of the Death Eaters and maybe finishing whatever repairs the wizarding world needed before heading here.

_Any day now._

And then Albus arrived.

Vernon and Petunia started yelling at Albus for not staying in touch or giving them any news on when Harry would be taken off to "their" world by Sirius or Remus-though they referred to his best friends in less than pleasant terms-and generally acted as impossibly unpleasant hosts towards Albus. Albus, always being Albus, was patient with them and didn't rise to any of their insults and instead patiently told them the situation that had kept him tied up and none of it was good. Sirius was in Azkaban, charged with betraying Harry's parents to Voldemort and Remus had disappeared, though Albus wasn't entirely clear or sure as to why. As Albus continued to explain why neither of the two had shown up to find Harry James' mind was working in overdrive as he thought about _any_ sort of evidence that they had left behind that could prove that Peter was the Secret Keeper, that Sirius was magically incapable of betraying them because he simply did not know the secret. He was slowly beginning to realize that no such evidence existed when he heard another bombshell.

Harry was staying with the Dursleys. Forever.

It was like some bad joke, James almost expected to wake up out and Sirius and Remus yell out "Got you!" and explain that he was actually having some fever dream induced by Sleeping Potions. Not a single thing about it made sense. Sirius he could understand, he was imprisoned and could not take Harry until he was cleared, Remus was gone… somewhere. Ok fine. Why couldn't the Longbottoms take Harry in? He always got along with little Neville so why not? If not them why not Lily's parents? Or the Tonks, or the Goldensmiths? Why not Albus himself? There was a whole list of people in that had agreed to take care of Harry in case something happened to them, all of them listed on their wills. A sinking feeling started forming in James' non-corporeal body, could it have been possible that _everyone_ was gone? What had happened to the world he knew?

Of course then Albus explained why. It didn't help James' rapidly deteriorating mood that Albus had no clue, not a single damn clue, what he was talking about. His entire explanation made no sense, how could it given that Albus did not even know what ritual had been used? No one besides him and Lily could possibly know given that they had left no notes on the ritual behind to ensure no one could work the ritual backwards and undo their protection on Harry, Albus was simply extrapolating based off of much simpler and easier familial protection magic and even then he was completely wrong. Vernon and Petunia could not recharge the protection on Harry any more than any random person off of the street, it simply did not work that way, if it did work like that then magicals with large families would be nigh impossible to kill, something which was simply not true. Even _if_ the protection did work that way, Harry was not safe in the house of people who were completely unable to fight of anyone with even basic magical dueling skills, Harry's protection did not create any sort of blood wards around the Dursley's home, absolutely nothing stopped any remaining Death Eaters from learning Harry's position and simply waltzing in here and stealing him away. As Albus explained all of this James tried his hardest to yell and scream or cast some magic to get the old wizard's attention, pointing out that Harry could just as easily be hidden with a Fidelus Charm if he absolutely required safety, but all of his efforts were in vain as not a single thing happened beside Harry waking up and crying in the upstairs room. Minutes of fruitless yelling later James finally gave up, his shoulders slumping and his arms handing limply at his sides. He floated his way back up to the room Harry was being left in, a lonely room that they had been using as storage before looking over the fussing Harry.

"It's ok Harry, it's ok."

Harry continued to cry and wail.

"It'll be alright, I'll find you a way out of this."


	2. Blanket

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews and follows. Anyone else notice that there are a few stories being put in the H/Hr section that are not H/Hr pairings? People have no respect for the fic sorting markers it seems. Short chapter, though I think they will all be short either way, though I'm not too proud of this chapter.

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**Blanket**

"You'll be fine,"

James paced at besides Harry's cot in the Hospital Wing, his fists clenching and unclenching as he looked at his boy-who was so deathly still-and worried and fumed.

"You'll be fine, you'll be fine, you'll be fine, you'll be fine," he repeated over and over as he continued to walk back and forth repeatedly, occasionally looking over Madame Pomfrey's shoulders to see what her diagnostic spells were displaying.

"What's the matter with the boy?" Headmaster Dumbledore inquired, his own voice sounding quite worried.

"I don't know!" James yelled, "I was there with him and-I don't know what happened!" James was now grinding his teeth and looked on the verge of tears. He knew full well that no one could hear him; no one had had even a hint of his existence in all the 11 years that he'd been a ghost, but had found that talking helped keep his mind sane. "He had some sort of reaction to Voldemort when he grabbed him and-I don't know what happened after that!" He yelled and sat down by Harry, reaching for his son's hand before screaming out as his hand simply passed through Harry's.

"I don't know what to say Albus," Madame Pomfrey said after a series of spells, "I see no spell residue on him and the attempted strangulation wouldn't be sufficient to have done this…" She sighed before continuing, "What monster would try to strangle a child Albus?"

"What monster indeed." The Headmaster muttered before addressing the elderly woman again. "But will he be fine?"

"Yes Albus," Madame Pomfrey said, much to James' joy, "I don't know _what_ caused this, but I can tell you what the effects are. He'll simply need sleep and rest for a few days. I've given him a set of Sleeping Potions to keep him sedated, he'll be fine now."

"Of course he'll be fine," James quipped for his own sake as he continued to fret over Harry, looking him over for any injuries that Pomfrey might have missed.

"Very well then, please inform me if anything changes about the situation."

James looked up at this, startled by the Headmaster's words. "What do you mean?" he asked, no one hearing his words.

"Very well Headmaster-"

"You're leaving?" James asked as he stood to his feet.

"-though I don't expect any complications." Madame Pomfrey went on as she stood up, the two of them heading towards the huge double door entrance of the Hospital Wing, the two of them talking about recent events in the school

"Where are you going?" James yelled after them. "Dumbledore you get your ass back here! It's your goddamn fault the Stone was here in the first place!' He moved after them, passing through the doors as they closed behind them. "Pomfrey! You can't walk away from a child in the Hospital Wing! GODDAMIT GET BACK HERE!" James watched as the two of them continued on their way, completely unable to hear anything he was saying. He turned around and in an act of childish anger swung a fist out to a nearby vase and yelled out in frustration as his fist harmlessly passed through it. He shook in anger and continued to throw punches and kicks at the doors, the walls, anything at all, his tantrum fueled by all the anger he'd been feeling recently. Anger at Voldemort for surviving, anger at Dumbledore for using Harry as bait, anger at Snape for being such an arsehole towards Harry, anger at Pomfrey for leaving an injured child alone, anger at the Dursley's for their disgusting behavior for the past decade, anger at himself because all he could do is standing there and not able to do a single thing to help his son. It all left almost as soon as it came, he let out a long shuddering breath as he realized, once again, that it was useless.

He moved back over to Harry's side, his son needed him.

"Right." He muttered as he struggled to control himself. "It's just you and me again buddy." He pushed his glasses up as he rubbed his face and eyes and muttered into his hands. He looked through his fingers at his son, at the damn ugly scar on his forehead and frowned. He shook his head and tried to sit back in his chair, his habit of tapping his fingers on the chair's armrests and impatiently tapping his foot on the floor. He clenched his jaw over and over as he began to realize that his fingers tapping wasn't making any noise and that his feet were actually passing through the floor, he looked down and frowned as he realized he wasn't sitting in the chair so much as passing through it at several points. He sighed and began to rub his forehead and began to scratch at a small bump he felt above his left eyebrow. His left calf itched, same as it had been itching for 11 years.

"Maybe you can hear me now Harry?" he asked hopefully after a long while. "Harry?" He leaned forward, careful not to actually pass through any part of his body. "Son? Buddy?" he whispered and waited for a response that he knew would never come. "You there?"

Harry remained still.

"No, I guess not." He admitted, "Didn't hurt to try." He muttered before standing up again and pacing around Harry's cot. "Won't hurt to keep trying either."

He looked over the flimsy blanket that Pomfrey had draped over him, realizing that it wasn't doing anything at all to keep his son warm. "Pomfrey, these blankets are too thin." He turned around and spotted the nearest cot, its own pair of blankets neatly stacked across the pillow, "Won't hurt to keep trying," he repeated as he made his way over to them and attempted to lift them up.

His hands went through the blanket again, as he knew they would.

His hands went through the blanket again, despite the fact that this time he tried to will some magic into his hands in an attempt to do… something.

"Ok," he waved his hands around as he pretended he had a wand in his hands. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he yelled. Nothing happened. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He intoned again, his voice stronger this time, "Wingardium Leviosa!" He stopped before he angered himself again, because he knew it did hurt to try, it cut him deeply when he couldn't do so much as put a blanket on his boy as he lay in a hospital bed after nearly being killed by a madman. It hurt him that his son hadn't heard a single word that he had said over the 11 years that he had been watching over him. He moved back over to Harry and sat down again, realizing that all he did was watch.

He watched while the Dursley's starved and mistreated him, watched as they made him toil away to clean up their messes, do their lawn, wash their clothing and eat their scraps. He'd hoped, desperately hoped that when he arrived at Hogwarts someone, _anyone_, would notice the signs of child abuse on his poor boy and pull him out of that hellhole. Pomfrey should have, Dumbledore should have, McGonagall should have. Dumbledore and McGonagall knew better, they had heard of the Dursley's through him and Lily and knew what to expect of them, Pomfrey should have been easily able to tell the signs of an abused child, why Harry was simply scrawnier than everyone else and why he flinched when she had moved to examine him during the routine examinations at the beginning of the year. But fine, if they didn't see what should be painfully obvious to any competent child caregiver then at least they should make his schooling a pleasant experience. And, he had to admit, they had. He could tell Harry enjoyed the classes.

All except one.

James had been livid when he saw Snape at the Head Table. What had the world come to? What was Dumbledore thinking allowing such trash into Hogwarts? Here was a man who had called Lily that foul name, here was a man that had the sheer audacity to hold Lily's body so soon after his master had killed her and cry. Here was a man who joined a group of supremacists known for murder, torture and rape walking freely about as if he owned the school, teaching the sons and daughters of some of the very families he helped destroy. Here was a man who deserved a lifetime of imprisonment at Azkaban sitting at a professor's desk and constantly marking down Harry's grades because of some petty grudge or hatred. It was a fucking joke. It was a smack in the face of his and Lily's death, it spit on all the friends he'd grown up with and watched die as they fought back against the Death Eaters. Here was a man that James had tried to strangle every single day during Harry's potions class just to make Harry's life a little easier.

And to add on all of that Voldemort was still alive.

"I wish you were here Lily," James began, "You were always the brains of our operation, you'd know how to fix this." He reached over and pretended to smooth out Harry's hair. "I wonder if I'm in Hell Lily. I was never unfaithful, I never killed anyone who didn't deserve it, I gave money to charity… maybe I was a real prick when I was younger, but do I deserve this?" He looked down at his son, "He doesn't deserve this. I don't know if you saw Harry down there Lily, but when Harry killed a man... He did it to survive, I don't blame him and I don't think any less of him, if anything he was so much braver than I could ever be… but what 11 year old has to kill a man by burning his face off?" His mind started to wander back to that room, when Harry had been forced to kill a man simply to clean up Dumbledore's messes…

"Bloody hell," James sighed out, mentally exhausted but incapable of sleeping as he sank into his chair.

The worry that he had felt began to fade, his mind going slightly numb from boredom as he sat next to Harry for the next few hours-he'd learned quite quickly after his death that he was incapable of sleep-and his gaze wandered about the room as he looked over at the other two occupants of the room, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

He hadn't been paying much attention to them before, his worry over Harry's condition, his own meltdown at the unfairness of it all and his bout of depression had occupied his mind, though now that he had calmed down a bit and he knew Harry was no longer in any life threatening situations his mind began to mull them both over.

Ron Weasley was golden in his book. How could he not be? He was his son's first friend, for that he had earned James' eternal gratitude. His eating habits did remind him of that vacuum cleaner Muggle device he'd seen Lily's mother use once, and he did have the understandable habit of slacking off and putting off his work for later, but he was just an 11 year old. He'd come through for Harry when he needed it and was his first real friend. Quidditch, games, slacking off and sitting about the common room and doing absolutely nothing, those were all things that Harry _needed_ to experience. Ron was a great escape from all the shit in Harry's life, an escape James heartily approved off.

Though there were small times when James felt odd about the boy. The red-headed kid was jealous and pretty quick to anger. Again James reminded himself that Ron was an 11 year old boy, he'd grow out of it sooner or later.

And then a smaller part of his mind told him that Peter had also been a jealous 11 year old…

James shook his head and looked away from Harry's best mate and over to another cot that held Hermione Granger, Harry's other best mate.

James had to admit that he didn't quite like Hermione as well as Harry seemed to. So she seemed like a nice girl and sometimes wondered if she only hung around Harry and Ron because she had a crush on one of them after they had saved her from the troll. James snorted, realizing that he was thinking about his son's possible love life.

Though he quickly squashed down any humor when he remembered his last conversation with Lily involved something similar.

Maybe the little girl did have a crush on one of them? As a father he hoped it was on Harry… though again he thought she was a bit too uptight about studying, a bit too serious about work and education. It wasn't that those were necessarily bad qualities, he realized Harry needed someone to tell him to buckle down sometimes, but like Ron she took too much of an extreme. Ron was habitually lazy, Hermione was a workaholic. She was quite bossy at times and…

He was suddenly brought out of his musings when he saw her sit up in her cot, throw off her blankets and slowly walk over to his son's side.

"What are you doing Hermione?" James asked before shooting out of his seat as Harry began to turn.

The bushy haired witch gasped before reaching for Harry's hand. "You're dreadfully cold!" she gasped before scampering off to the adjacent cot and taking blanket that James had tried to move earlier and throwing it over Harry. James had to jump out of the way as she made her way past him and slowly moved the nearby chair to Harry's bed, the girl careful not to make any noise that would alert Madame Pomfrey that she was awake and out of her cot. She sat next to Harry's bed, held his hand and occasionally checked to make sure he was comfortable, all the while softly berating him for making her worry so much, for being a hero and fighting Quirrel by himself, for being so brave and noble that he had to go off on a silly adventure and miss out on so much time that could have been spent studying instead.

"You should be careful," she whispered, "You're my only friend and I don't want you to get hurt. Don't tell Ron I said this, but I don't really think he's my friend, I think he's only feeling sorry for sending me to the girl's bathroom in the first place." She leaned back in her chair, a small frown on her face. "Maybe you aren't my friend either, and also feel sorry for me."

James felt sorry for the small girl, he'd been thinking only negative things about her only a moment ago and now here she was, giving Harry warmth when no one else did and worrying over his health so much that she'd woken up in the dead of night to check up on him. Like Ron she had proved herself to be a true friend down there in the secret chambers, sticking by Harry and helping him on save the Stone from Voldemort and yes, she was brave, smart and loyal. James felt terrible, what was a bit of bossiness in the face of that?

"I feel like such an arse Lily," he muttered as he continued to look at the two. Despite knowing she wouldn't be able to hear him he blurted out some words of encouragement to the young witch, hoping to repay the kindness she'd just shown his son. "I'm sure Harry really is your friend, don't worry about it Hermione."

Harry stirred again, causing both James and Hermione to look him over and see if anything was wrong.

"I think it's just nightmares girl," James declared after Harry had calmed down, "I didn't expect him to sleep as soundly as Pomfrey suggested he would."

"Oh Harry, I hope you aren't having nightmares," Hermione cooed, "You need to rest." She suddenly yawned, reminding James that-late night vigils or no-she was still a little girl who had also just gone through something quite traumatic. "I need to rest too," she muttered. "I'll be right over there ok Harry? Just two cots over, just call me if you need anything."

She then tiptoed over and kissed Harry on his forehead before scurrying back to her own cot when she heard a noise out in the hall.

James chuckled as he watched the witch scamper back into her own cot and cover herself in a blanket just as Madame Pomfrey popped into the room and made her way over to Harry. Her eyebrows rose up as she spotted the second blanket over Harry's body before throwing a curious glance over to Harry's two friends.

"Yes Pomfrey, one of them noticed Harry would be cold." James spit out, he was frankly in a foul mood with anyone who wasn't named Harry, Hermione or Ron. He didn't even spare the elderly witch as she went about the room and checked on the other patients and instead focused his attention back on his own son.

As he looked at his sleeping form, now protected from the cold by two blankets, he decided that he'd try to look on the bright side of life. Yes, his first year at Hogwarts wasn't as smooth as it could have been, but it could have been much worse. He then looked at Ron and Hermione, who had seemingly fooled Pomfrey into thinking she was asleep and made the faintest of smiles.

He could have not met Ron or Hermione, made friends with no one.

"It could have been much worse Harry, but at least now it isn't just you and me. You've got two other people in your corner now."


	3. Dead Men

**AN:** Hello everyone. Sorry about the delay, but several things happened. The finals for my previous course, which I barely passed by the skin of my teeth, I took a 6 week statistics course which I scored a B in, went on my first date ever and, about a few days later, took some visiting family to all the tourist attractions around the area – Disneyland, Universal Studios, the Queen Mary, the Grove, etc. for an entire week or so. So hopefully I can put in this chapter before I leave for Mexico for my own vacation on the 4th of August.

* * *

**Dead Men**

"Ginny! Ginny, please don't be dead. Wake up, wake up."

James tried to speed up to catch up to his son, who had started running towards the youngest Weasley as soon as he saw her, his mind momentarily going blank and hoping that they weren't too late.

"She won't wake you know," a voice called out, causing James to stop in his tracks and Harry to turn around.

"Tom!" Harry yelled out after checking over Ginny, "We have to-!"

James had caught up to the three of them; his gaze fixed squarely on the ghost of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the boy who would become Lord Voldemort. Of course he knew who the man, Dumbledore had revealed Voldemort's identity to some of the Order members during the war, though he wasn't entirely sure _how_ the ghost of a teenage Voldemort had been tied to a diary… though he had a sneaking suspicion, a feeling in the pit of his stomach that didn't bode well for-

"Who are you?"

James was brought out of his musings by ghost Voldemort's question.

A question that he had aimed straight at him.

"Tom?" Harry asked before James could respond, "Who are you talking to? Never mind that! Now help me will you, Ginny is-"

Voldemort raised his wand and muttered a spell that lanced out and hit James square in the chest, knocking him slightly back in a confused daze. He looked down at his chest, right where the spell had hit him and felt the familiar wash of magic before looking back up at Voldemort.

Voldemort could see him, and worse,_ Voldemort's magic could touch him._

"You aren't any under cloak that I recognize…" Voldemort muttered as he fingered his wand, "That spell should have revealed you to little Harry here."

"Tom!" Harry yelled out, "There's no one there! You're talking to no one! Now help me get Ginny out of here before the basilisk comes back!"

Voldemort kept his eyes locked on James before his eyes began to light up. "Oh, I see," he smirked, "I can see the resemblance, so you must be… oh how _delightful._"

"Tom!" Harry yelled, "THERE'S NO ONE THERE! Now hurry up and help me save Ginny!"

Voldemort turned to Harry, who was still unaware of what was going on before his very eyes, "I had planned on using her to get to you… but now that I think about it… no, there's nothing I can learn from you either. After all, what would you know? You were but a baby when you defeated me, you would have no memories of what happened that night."

James felt his stomach clench uncomfortably, he didn't like where any of this was going.

"But you," Voldemort looked straight at him, "You would know. After all, the idea that a baby defeated me is ridiculous; it must have been you that did this. Yes, a child taking credit for the work of his parents." He hissed before pointing his wand at Harry, who jumped at the gesture. "Tell me how you defeated me," he went on in a demanding tone. "Or he dies."

James entire body immediately went on edge, the heart he was sure he didn't have started hammering in his ethereal chest. His mind suddenly became keenly aware that he didn't have a wand and began to bring up painful memories of the last time he'd faced Voldemort without one.

"Tom," Harry said in a small voice, eyes wide as he looked between Voldemort and the spot where James stood, invisible to his eyes, "Who are you talking to?"

"It's me Harry!" James yelled out, "It's your father!" he made to move over to his son, old revived thoughts of being able to speak to his son swirling in his head before Voldemort's wand fired a spell at his feel. James glared at Voldemort's ghost, "You can't even hurt him, us ghosts can't cast magic on the living."

"No," Voldemort smiled, "_I_ can't hurt him..." He turned around and began hissing in what James immediately recognized to be Parseltongue and his mind immediately drew the connections to the basilisk problem Hogwarts had recently been having.

"Harry! Run!" James yelled towards his son, "He's calling the basilisk!"

To James' eternal relief Harry seemed to have caught on, either from half of Voldemort's conversation or from the fact that Voldemort's Parseltongue had been responded to by something that sounded huge. Not a moment later did the giant serpent dart forth from one of the various water pipes that fed into the main chamber and shot forward straight at Harry. James' nearly died again as he thought he was about to witness his son's own death but Harry was faster, jumping out of the way while sending a Bludgeoning hex towards the beast which splashed harmlessly against its scales. The basilisk was enormous; razor scales lining its back as it slithered around, it's gaping maw all shards of terrible looking teeth that jutted out of its jaw in rows and clusters while a vile drool continuously spilled all along its trail.

James yelled at the beast in a vain attempt to distract it, though once again all he could do is watch uselessly as his son had to fight and run for his life, a giant creature of muscle and fangs and a killing gaze bearing down on him.

"It's rare to see ghosts like you," Voldemort began as he watched the entire display in amusement, "though not unheard of. Poltergeists usually have the ability to at least move objects while you don't seem to have done much of anything in… how long has it been? Potter grew up an orphan, have you been with him this entire time?" he asked, a smirk on his face as James' glared at him. "It must have been because of me," he went on, "Perhaps I devised a curse that traps the soul in the world between life and death, not quite dead and not quite alive. How appropriate. Now you can see your half-blood son mangled before your eyes."

James yelled in fury and charged Voldemort's ghost, taking only a few step forwards before he was knocked back by a Bludgeoning hex that landed him flat on his back before he began to sink into the floor.

"Bloody-!" Whatever James was about to curse out was interrupted by a shriek that drew both his and Voldemort's attention. Off in the distant entrance to the Chamber the basilisk was roaring in pain, streams of blood splattering every which was as it reared its head back, a huge gouge where it's eye used to be. James' eyes darted over to Harry, who was hiding behind one of the stone pillars of the Chamber, his wand still sparkling with spell fire before he darted to the other side of the room. James turned back to give Voldemort a triumphant grin, "See that? My son can take whatever you throw at him you ars-"

"Silence!" Voldemort bellowed before hitting him with a Killing Curse, both he and James were clearly surprised when the green Avada Kedavra didn't kill James, instead merely hurting like holy hell and slamming him backwards further into the Chamber floor. James floundered as he attempted to bring himself "out" of the floor, always hating the feeling of "swimming" through solids, but attempted to speed up his attempts as he heard Voldemort yell something out in Parseltongue that couldn't be good news for Harry. He swam or floated to the surface of the floor just in time to see Harry run past, the basilisk still on his tail, though James noted with some satisfaction that the creature had a few large injuries along its sides, Voldemort was yelling in frustration.

"Potter!" he yelled in fury before sending another Killing Curse his way, James diving sideways into the floor as the spell harmlessly disappeared as it "hit" the floor, "Your son is only delaying the inevitable, all he is insuring is that he will die on tired legs!" Voldemort jabbed his wand forward again, a green spell lancing out and creating a small gash along the floor where James had just been, a gleeful smile appearing on the ghosts' face. "And even if he evades the serpent's jaws," he drew his wand inwards and ripped James from his hiding spot inside the floor and pulling him directly in front of the dead Dark Lord, "He will _not_ evade me." He jammed his wand into James' gut and unleashed another Killing Curse, the spell hurtling James backwards several feet, his painful flight ending only when he began to feel himself sinking against the floor once again. He got to his feet, his mind still dazed by the newly remembered sensations of pain, and no sooner had he righted himself up that another spell flew his way. He attempted to sidestep the spell but his reflexes were off and he was clipped in the shoulder the force of the spell spinning him around and knocking him on his back as he experienced pain that was unlike either of the previous hits.

_Shite!_ James wasted no time as he sought out some cover in the form of one of the various pillars in the room, Voldemort's taunts and spells, along with Harry's screams and the basilisks roars bouncing off of the walls all around him. _What is going on?_ His son was stuck in a room with a creature that could kill him with nothing but a glance or even a single knick of its venomous teeth _and_ the ghost of Voldemort himself. Perhaps even more alarming was the fact that Voldemort's ghost seemed to be becoming more and more corporeal as time went on, the fact that the basilisk could hear his commands and that his spells were starting to affect the world were proof enough for that.

_How?_

James tried to rack his wrack his brain as he attempted to remember everything he could on ghosts. He'd never heard of a ghost being able to affect the world through magic, poltergeists could move objects but they were also invisible-even to other ghosts and existed more as pure spirits. Not only that but Voldemort's ghost was much younger than when he died, which didn't make any…

_Shite._

James dared a look around the pillar he was currently hiding behind, a Killing Curse sailing past and setting his entire body on edge, before he saw the diary still clutched in little Ginny's hands. His mouth went dry as realization struck him. Of course he'd had his suspicions since first year, there were few methods that could keep someone alive as Voldemort clearly had, but there in the deathly white and still hands of Ginny was the proof. A Horcrux.

His mind went into overdrive as he suddenly sought out his son, who only a few moments ago had fled into one of the nearby pipes with the basilisk unable to enter in pursuit. "Harry!" he yelled out, "The diary! Destroy the dia-"

The pillar he was hiding behind suddenly exploded in a violently bright green explosion, the green cloud of energy searing against his skin, James began to blindly move about and run before Voldemort could hit him again, he didn't know what would happen if he was hit with an Avada Kedavra now that Voldemort was becoming more and more "alive".

"You are a smart one Potter," Voldemort complimented from somewhere on James' left, "Quite the quick thinker, not at all what I expected from the little girl's story on the famous James Potter. Though I admit the small child was rather vapid in the mind. Do you see your son there, hiding like a rat?" James' sight finally returned, and he spared a glance over to the pipe Harry had hid in, the basilisk still unable to reach him, "Perhaps he'll stay hiding in that hole until he dies of thirst or hunger or exhaustion, the basilisk can out wait him and you and I have nothing better to do." Voldemort chuckled evilly as he sent a few Killing Curses towards James, his movements slow and lazy, "And then perhaps I'll begin to research a way to kill ghosts… or maybe-"

Once again Harry surprised the two of them, the basilisk rearing back as it sported another injury, this time on its other eye-or where its other eye had once been-and Harry darted out of the pipe he had been hiding in like a bat out of hell and charged straight towards Voldemort firing spells with such ferocity and power that James felt a great rush of momentary pride before that feeling was crushed and replaced with terror as the basilisk, its head a mangled mess of gore, charged towards the sounds of Harry's yelling, ramming him and pinning him against a nearby wall with a sickening crunch, Harry's screams mixing with his own, with Voldemort's gleeful laugh and the basilisks triumphant roars. Harry desperately tried to push the basilisk away before he began to panic as the creature continued to crush him against the wall, his wand began wildly sending Bludgeoning hexes into the basilisks' face, desperation and survival instincts fueling his attacks, the basilisk visibly shuddering under each hit.

"Harry!"

With one final red bloom of light part of the creature's head caved in, blood, ichor and scales flying out of small ruptures that occurred along the indentation on the serpent's skull, both Harry and the basilisk falling silent and still shortly thereafter.

James froze, absolutely certain that he had just seen his son die right in front of him, crushed to death.

Beside him Voldemort laughed.

And then James snapped.

He moved faster than he had thought was possible for him, he darted straight to Voldemort-who it seemed was reacting to him in slow motion-and reached for his hand and, to his own glee and Voldemort's shock-he was able to touch Voldemort. James pushed Voldemort's wand hand away from him, his free hand a fist that slammed into Voldemort's still very surprised face, the force of the punch and James' own forward momentum bringing them both to the ground, James' reflexes once again giving him the advantage as he landed atop of Voldemort, straddling him as he began to twist and slam Voldemort's wand hand against the ground as he banked on the knowledge that the dead Dark Lord was "real" enough to react to solids as any human would. Voldemort still seemed immensely surprised by the turn of events and the second he took to attempt to fight back was enough time for James to rear back his fist and send it back down into Voldemort's face.

James felt his fist cave in several of Voldemort's teeth.

Voldemort finally began to fight back, he reached up and attempted to strangle James with his free hand, his wand wildly shooting out spells as it fought in James' grasp. He was evidently unaccustomed to a physical beating and all his efforts were panicked. He yelled out in pain when James delivered a particularly nasty twist to his wand hand, the wrist turning completely around with a snap and the wand flying out of his grasp, James let the broken hand go and proceeded to use his two fists to pummel Voldemort's face in.

James had a bit of knowledge on self-defense, things he'd learned from his father that taught him how to end a fight quickly and cleanly with no more effort than necessary.

And at this moment he used none of that.

Instead he used images of all the friends he'd lost in the war against the Death Eaters and Voldemort, of the friendships and families that had been destroyed in the blink of an eye by the man before him and his group of madmen. A handful of teeth came flying out of Voldemort's mouth, his lip busted open by a vicious punch. He used memories of Lily's final moments, at the injustice of it all that someone like Lily, his sweet loving Lily, could be murdered in her own home and would never enjoy motherhood because of this twisted individual. She'd never be able to help Harry with his Runes or Potions homework or worry over him when he got sick or bake him the cookies she had learned for him. He punched and Voldemort's nose twisted painfully to the side as blood began to stream out of it. He punched because Voldemort had robbed him of the chance to hug his 12 year old son, robbed him of the chance to nudge him in the ribs when the topic of girls would come up or fly a game of Quidditch with him. He used the memory of Vernon Dursley beating Harry for failing to do his chores, or the times Petunia Dursley locked Harry away in that goddamn cupboard under the stairs on an empty stomach while she invited her friends over for ridiculous tea parties, of that whale of a cousin of his beating Harry up at school or on the way to school simply because his parents wouldn't say anything. Voldemort was thrashing about now, wildly trying to gouge out James' eyes or ward off his punches, he tried to knock James off of him, each attempt growing more desperate than the last with each of James' punches. James thought of all the shite that Harry had to deal with, an immature Potions professor who held on to old grudges, constant whispers and rumors behind his back, stares at his ugly scar instead of his mother's eyes, isolation caused by people considering him a celebrity and hero instead of the normal boy he wanted to be, a world of people congratulating him for surviving the attack that killed his parents, a troll and Voldemort's spirit in his first year and now a basilisk and Voldemort again. James felt Voldemort's hands clamp down around his neck, he ignored them, he hadn't had to breathe in 12 years after all.

James punched and punched, because he hated Voldemort, he hated what he stood for and what he had done to the wizarding world, he hated what he had done to his friends, he hated what he had done to Lily and what he had done to him and what he had done to Harry. What he continued to do to Harry. Voldemort tried to apply more and more pressure around James' neck, but James ignored the feeble attempts to strangle him.

James felt one of his hands shatter-not surprising with the reckless abandon he was punching with- and instead opted to hammer downwards with his fist.

But mostly James punched Voldemort's face into a bloody mess because after 12 years of sitting by helplessly and watching his son face death by his own he could _finally do something._ It might have been too late, his son may lay crushed and dead only a few feet away, but here was his chance to finally do something, _anything,_ to help his son.

Maybe this was it, his mind reasoned. Maybe Voldemort ruined everything he touched and this was the end of the line for Harry. Those thoughts sent more hatred through James' body. Maybe Harry didn't get to live and see happier days, maybe 12 years was all the borrowed time he had after surviving the Killing Curse as a baby. James' vision became blurry as blood from Voldemort's face and his own tears started to mix together. He was openly weeping now as he delivered crushing blows into Voldemort, whose face had long since become an unrecognizable pulp and only spastically twitched ormoved.

Maybe Harry was in a better place now, with Lily.

James realized that all he had now was Voldemort, he wasn't even sure ghosts could kill each other. But that was fine, he reasoned, because he'd sit here and pummel Voldemort's ghostly body for all eternity if he had to, because he owed it to Harry, who deserved so much more than anyone had been able to give him.

James reared both fists back and brought them down into Voldemort's face, completely crushing in his skull before the entire world exploded around him.


End file.
